


There must be dungeons

by floatingaway4



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25052779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingaway4/pseuds/floatingaway4
Summary: In which Henry needs a nap, and playground diplomacy is obviously a lost art“...you are to produce heirs.”“We could still do that.”--Casey McQuiston
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 46
Kudos: 273





	There must be dungeons

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I'm not reeeaaally into writing kidfic. 
> 
> My brain: I will present you with this fully formed idea which you will feel compelled to write down. 
> 
> Me: Dammit!

Alex is in the bedroom, tying his tie, when his husband’s conversation with their daughter floats up from downstairs. 

“Conner said I’m not a princess.” 

“Well, Conner is incorrect. But I hope you weren’t unkind to him.” 

“I told him to stop being a doo-doo head. Then we played on the swings.” 

“Ah. Well. I’m glad that’s all resolved. Now, take a bite.” 

“Yup, all a-solved.” 

“Take a bite.”

Alex walks briskly downstairs to the kitchen. Henry is seated at the little round kitchen table next to their daughter, who, as usual, has been taking her time picking over her scrambled eggs. She hasn’t eaten much since Alex left the table ten minutes before. Henry is cradling James in one arm, still bouncing him a little, even though the baby finally seems to be asleep. As Alex enters the large, open kitchen and opens a cabinet, Henry looks over and raises his chin toward a spot on the island between them. “I already…” he starts, gesturing toward a stainless steel mug. Alex takes a sip and closes his eyes as the caffeine and blissful hint of cinnamon hit his tongue. He looks over at Henry, and dramatically mouths _I love you_ while their daughter continues talking. Alex rests his forearms on the island, scrolling through messages on his phone, half listening to the conversation at the table. 

“I’m a princess, because you’re a prince.” 

“Correct.” 

“But Papa isn’t a prince. He’s a ....” 

Alex looks over fondly at the bleary face of his husband, who clearly does not have the energy to have this discussion, yet again. And certainly not at this time of the morning. Even so, he completes her sentence with infinite patience. “He’s a duke,” Henry fills in. “Take a bite,” he prompts. 

She does, while eyeing Henry suspiciously. “So, if you’re a prince and I’m a princess and papa is a ….something.” She waves her hand vaguely in the air in a way that is such a clear imitation of one of Henry’s gestures, Alex can’t suppress a snort. “Then, why don’t we live in a castle?” Ellie looks at Henry as though she has just outsmarted him. 

Henry sighs heavily. “Because the castle is in England and we live here. Daddy’s work is here, and Papa’s work is here, and your school and all of your friends are here.” 

Alex can’t resist. “And because Daddy’s family is full of-” 

“Alex.” Henry interrupts in a low, warning voice, without even turning to look at him.

  
Alex crosses the room to stand behind Henry, one hand lightly massaging his shoulder. “-- lovely, wonderful, people who unfortunately live all the way across the ocean,” he finishes smoothly. He feels Henry’s shoulder sag a little under his hands and makes a mental note to continue this massage later tonight. “You’ve been there, Ellie, to Daddy’s palace. Remember? ” 

Ellie shrugs. “I guess so.” 

Alex searches his memory, realizing with a start that it’s been more than a year. That’s forever when you’re a small child. “You saw Aunt Bea and Uncle Philip and Aunt Martha and grandma, and you played with your cousins in that big garden.” 

“That wasn’t a palace, Papa” she says, her suspicious gaze now cast on Alex. “Nobody was wearing a crown or sitting on a throne.” Her tone is so final that Alex is surprised to hear his husband respond. 

“Actually, the modern monarchy-,” Henry starts.  
  


Alex jumps in eagerly, rescuing them all from the rest of that conversation. “Hey, Ellie-bell! If you can go brush your teeth and put your shoes on before I count to 100, I have time to walk you to school today!” 

“Yay!” Ellie cries, running off to her room, all thoughts of crowns forgotten. Temporarily, Alex is sure. He plops down heavily in her empty chair, eats a piece of abandoned toast, and grins at his husband. 

Henry sighs. “I know we’re a constitutional monarchy and all but an entire country listens when I speak. And yet, I cannot convince my own daughter to eat her breakfast.” 

“Well, maybe if you wore your crown and sat on a throne, she’d listen to you,” Alex offers unhelpfully. 

Henry smiles wryly at the image. “Even with all my years of experience arguing with you, she flummoxes me every time.” 

“Hey, I’m a lawyer and I can’t win an argument with her either. As a parent, I finally see the value in the phrase, ‘because I said so,’” Alex smirks. He floats a hand down Henry’s arm and leans in for a kiss. “I know genetically we’re both in there somewhere but when she gets stubborn--” 

“That’s from your side,” Henry nods with a smile. She looked more like Henry but her attitude was all Claremont-Diaz, thanks to June. 

James twitches in Henry’s arms and Henry starts bouncing him gently again. Alex carefully cups the baby’s head with the palm of his hand, leans in, and inhales. “He’s so beautiful, H. I just want to stare at him all day and kiss his head.” 

Henry’s voice is raspy and tired but still manages to be firm, royal, and slightly menacing. “I love you more than life itself, but if you wake him up right now I’m going to have you thrown in the dungeons.” 

“You don’t even know where the dungeons are,” Alex whispers defiantly, as he continues to hover over their son’s pudgy face and dark hair.

“No, but I’m sure Gran does, and she would very much enjoy putting you there, so don’t tempt me.” 

“I told you a long time ago, I’m not afraid of her. Especially since she’s not in charge anymore.” 

Without even looking up, Alex can practically hear the guilt that crosses Henry’s face. He pops an eyebrow and waits for an explanation. 

“I was just thinking, Ellie does deserve to know her family, and where she fits into it all. And I really would like her to feel more connected to England, to Wales.” 

Alex nods, conceding, as he takes another swig of coffee. “Yeah, I didn’t realize it had been so long. But she’s four, H. She’s not going to understand it all yet. Plus, she’ll forget about it in a few minutes and be on to the next thing.” He laughs. “Today she wants to live in a palace. Yesterday, she wanted to live in the sewer like a Ninja Turtle.” Alex gazes at his husband, more serious now. “It doesn’t mean we just give in to everything they want.”

“No, not everything, but maybe a little more than we have,” Henry offers. 

And they have had this discussion too, so many times. The risks and benefits of allowing their children to be more involved with the monarchy. Allowing them to participate in some things that could be fun but would ultimately eat away at their privacy, their control. 

Alex takes Henry’s face and rubs his thumbs gently under his husband’s eyes, as if to erase the dark circles there. He knows Henry’s obvious exhaustion isn’t just from his recent lack of sleep ( _“Are you sure you haven’t been sneaking coffee into his formula, Alex?”)_ It’s also from the too-frequent arguments with Palace staff about their family’s public appearances, participation in royal events, and some things Alex swears they make up just to fuck with him. ( _“Garter Day? Seriously, H?”)_ Early on, Alex had intervened to insist that all requests be put in writing, after one too many times watching Henry’s face pale as his phone chirped again. “You and me against the world,” Alex likes to say. But he knows the main reason they have the relatively quiet life they have is because Henry fights so damn hard to keep it that way. 

Alex hadn’t realized how much pressure his husband was feeling until the day he came home to find Henry crumpled up against the living room wall, having a panic attack in their own goddamned home. ( _Bruised shins from hitting the hardwood, skidding to get to him, to hold him. Coaching him to breathe out through his nose, counting slowly with him. Leaving him alone for a million years because Alex couldn’t get the bottle open and ended up scattering half the pills on the counter._ ) Henry had been on the phone with Philip, who was “strongly suggesting” Henry send Ellie to boarding school in Scotland when she turned six. Philip’s oldest children had already been shipped off there. Alex had called Philip that night and gone a few rounds with him, angrily pacing the living room as he talked. ( _“Say birthright one more time, Philip. I fucking dare you.”)_ Philip had dropped that one, but Alex was afraid there would be even more pressure on them, now that they had a son. Say what you will about the “modern monarchy,” they still clung to their misogynistic traditions. James was Alex’s biological child, though, with an egg Bea happily provided. Alex deeply resented the fact that both of those things lowered the value of their son in some people’s eyes. It gave Alex a weird, sad sort of satisfaction to know that his son might not be worth Philip’s time. But he kind of loved the fact that some asshat in the Palace was probably still trying to work out where his part Mexican-American, part Royal son fell in the line of succession. 

And it’s not just the Palace that Henry has to fend off. The British tabloids never let up on them either, even though they live in America. It’s almost like they’re working harder to punish Henry for his absence, his reluctance to play their game. Not that there aren’t photographers outside their home right now, but they have been able to establish some boundaries with the American press. Henry had told Alex the papers made up stories out of whole cloth, but it took a while for Alex to realize the full, horrible, extent of it. Alex had always laughed off the rumors of their affairs, with other men, with women, sometimes both at the same time. ( _“If you’re really fucking Justin Trudeau, I want to watch.” “Good Lord, Alex.”_ ) But when one paper tried to say their surrogate was a drug addict and their daughter had been born with birth defects, Alex had gone supernova ballistic and threatened to sue “that entire fucking country for libel.” Henry actually had to lock him in the bathroom without his phone until he calmed down. When Alex came out, he looked deflated and defeated, and sobbed in Henry’s arms. ( " _What if she had been, H? What message is that sending to other parents in that situation? Are they saying we would love her less? I never want her to see that. I never want her to even think it.”)_

Sitting at the table now, Alex watches his husband’s face, sees the conflicting thoughts there as clearly as if Henry spoke them aloud. “You are not depriving her of anything,” he whispers fiercely. “You are giving her a normal fucking life.” 

Alex switches gears. “Here’s what we’re going to do. First, you are going to get some sleep. You can’t make any major decisions when you got, what, three, four hours of sleep, maybe?” Alex’s face softens. “Thanks for getting up with him, by the way.” 

Henry shrugs and smiles down at their son. “I don’t mind.” He’s the one currently working fewer hours so it made sense. ( _“Go back to sleep, love. I’ll get him.”)_ He’d never come back to bed and had been making breakfast for everyone when Alex woke up, sleeping infant in one arm and spatula in the other. Alex’s own personal superhero. 

“Your meeting isn’t til this afternoon, right?” Alex asks, and Henry nods. He doesn’t actually have to go to the shelter while he’s on paternity leave, but he likes to stay in the loop. (Alex had informed Henry it wasn’t technically paternity leave, since Henry does not take a salary. _“That’s called, ‘I own the damn place and I’m taking time off to stay home with my son’ leave.”_ ) Henry is also trying to get more comfortable leaving the children with the part time nanny they just hired, so short trips out of the house are good practice. “It should only be an hour or so,” Henry yawns. “I can pick her up from school afterward.” 

“Sounds good. He’s conked out, so you have plenty of time for a nap this morning.” 

Alex’s phone has been pinging and buzzing relentlessly in his pocket. He pulls it out and glances at it briefly, then lifts his head to call out, “Ellie! Vamonos!” His voice echoes through the house and Henry glares at him. “I know, I know, the dungeons,” Alex whispers. He leans in for a quick, apologetic kiss, as Ellie runs down the stairs and past them toward the front door. Alex stands, adding quietly, “And tonight after she’s in bed, we’ll look at our calendars and start planning a trip to England. Maybe in a few months, when he’s older. Let her spend some time with Bea and your mom. Okay?” 

Henry nods gratefully. “That sounds lovely.”

Alex cups his son’s head with his hand, once more, reverently. “I love you,” he says, his words encompassing both of them. He looks down at James. “Let Daddy have a nap, okay?” 

Henry smiles. “We love you, too. Have a good day. Go save the world.” 

Alex grins back. “I’m trying.” 

Ellie twirls across the room to give Henry a kiss. He puts a finger to his lips and she whispers, “Bye, baby brother.” 

Alex tops up his coffee, meets Ellie at the door, and looks down at her shoes. “Hey! Those are almost on the right feet!” 

“This is the way I like to wear them,” Ellie replies confidently. Alex turns quickly to smile at Henry, shrugging as she proves his earlier point. He holds his coffee mug in his right hand and takes their daughter’s hand in his left. 

***

It’s early afternoon before Alex is settled in his small office, following two court hearings and a long, dull, inescapable meeting. He checks his phone again. No messages from home, which he hopes means Henry got some sleep. He’s trying to remember if he ate lunch when he finds himself staring at the photos on his desk. Their wedding photo, a few more casual shots of just the two of them, and too many pictures of Ellie to count. One picture of Henry, face wet, holding James to his chest in the delivery room seconds after he was born. ( _“Christ, Alex, he looks just like you.”)_

Alex picks up his phone and takes a picture of the photos spread across his desk. He sends it to Henry, adding a heart emoji. He knows it’s cheesy but he can’t bring himself to care. Three dots quickly appear at the bottom of the screen, and Alex waits. A photo of their son, asleep in his crib, pops up, along with another heart emoji. 

**_You sleep?_ ** Alex texts. 

**_I did. It was truly glorious_ ** , Henry responds. **_I may write an ode to sleep._ **

**_I think Shakespeare beat you to it._ ** Alex looks at the time. **_On your way to work?_ **

**_Just leaving._ **

**_Walking or driving?_ **

**_Walking._ **

Alex hits the call button. “You know, this whole stay-at-home dad vibe you’ve got going is very sexy.” 

Henry huffs out a quick laugh. “Funny, I haven’t been feeling very sexy lately. I was covered in our son’s spit up this morning. I’d hardly call that attractive.” Alex can hear the truth hidden beneath the joke. 

“Hmm,” Alex says, leaning back in his chair and making sure his office door is firmly closed. “I bet I can make you feel sexy later.” He lowers his voice into a mischievous purr. “Maybe we’ll make another baby tonight.” 

Henry’s laugh this time is rich and deep, the same laugh Alex first fell in love with over the phone, so many years ago. The one he still falls in love with. “I’m not a scientist, Alex, but I’m 99 percent sure that’s not how any of this works.” 

“Have you won an argument yet today?” 

Henry sighs heavily. “No, I don’t believe I have.”

“You’d think you’d learn, then.” 

“You would think.” Alex hears traffic noises that mean Henry is probably crossing the intersection close to the shelter. It’s the second one he and Pez opened in the city and Henry is rightfully proud of it. 

Alex’s assistant knocks on the door and Alex sits up straight. “Shit, I gotta go. You’re picking her up, right?” 

“Yes. I’ll text you if I can’t.” 

“Love you.” 

“I love you, too. See you tonight.” 

They hang up and Alex calls for his assistant to come in. They go over paperwork for one of his clients, and once they’re mostly happy with it, Alex picks up his phone again. 

He sends Henry the picture he surreptitiously took that morning while he was standing at the island, of Henry at the table with their kids. 

**_I’m sorry if I sometimes forget to tell you how utterly beautiful you are when you are doing nothing more than being you._ **

After a quick Google search, (because he’s not the one with an English Lit degree), he adds: 

**_‘Forever is composed of Nows.’ --Emily Dickinson_ **

Henry’s reply two hours later makes him laugh and melts his heart, because it’s so sweet and romantic and silly, and so... _Henry_. 

**_I think I love you. --David Cassidy and The Partridge Family_ **

**_(Also, and more importantly: Hugh Grant -- Four Weddings and a Funeral)_ **

Alex buckles down to finish his work for the day, because he is definitely going home early. He'll never get that song out of his head anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on another story in this little world, because apparently I do kidfic now. 
> 
> Also, I thought it was funny that while I was editing this, I saw on the news that Kate and William are debating whether to send their kids to boarding school. I got the idea from watching the Crown :-)


End file.
